


What about rule number one?

by saturnina



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Community: avengerkink, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnina/pseuds/saturnina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just another night, until Tony broke rule number one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What about rule number one?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an **avengerkink** prompt on LJ.

Rule number one: never sleep together.  
Spend time together in bed, yes, but sleep together? First big "no" in their personal book of rules.

It was Tony who had determined this particular rule, to which Steve agreed with a nod and no further protest. He reckoned the captain wished to maintain their discretion too, for he was a rather self-conscious creature, uncomfortable with sharing anything private, and still a bit stuck in a '40s mentality which he was just beginning to shed off. Getting the blond man into his bed had been quite a strenuous task in itself, though completely worth it in the end.

For Tony, their "don't ask, don't tell, don't sleep" policy was all good. While he didn't feel he had anything to hide from his comrades, he didn't want to rub in their faces (and specially in Pepper's pretty face) that Steve and him fancied a roll in the hay occasionally. The hay being, of course, completely figurative, since they much preferred to roll on messy sheets. Naked mattresses and big bathtubs worked fine too. Or the soft cushions of the big TV room couch, when nobody was around. The soft carpet, when the couch didn't provide enough room for them. Against the walls, in the lack of any other stable surface to press Steve against.

 _Oh yes_. The more Tony had him, the more he craved him, the rare delicacy he was.

Steve was like a special kind of _crème brûlée_ , with a crusty layer of shyness and tense virtue that Tony loved to break whenever he could. Beneath that, a soft custard of sweet desire that the captain could barely keep in check when they were together. The secrecy and the overwhelming thrill of their passion made an heady combination for Tony, and despite his many sexual adventures, few had left such an addictive after-taste upon his tongue.

Sexual adventure. That's how Tony saw it, or how he told himself he saw it, because the alternative was too complicated. It involved abstract nouns like love, intimacy, fidelity, vulnerability, as well as scary things like anniversaries, private jokes, pet names and shared beds. 

And they didn't share beds. Not for more than a couple of hours.

5:16 am

5:17 am

Tony focused again on the alarm clock glaring at him, its angry lime green light boring holes into his retinas, the numbers reminding him that he had exceeded his parking time by a good 6 hours. He recalled tiptoeing to Steve's bedroom around 11 pm, quietly ordering JARVIS to turn off the cameras in Steve's room and almost, _almost_ hearing the A.I. snicker. But the computer knew better than to judge his creator's reckless habits—and addictions.

He recalled everything else about the night, though he preferred to not linger on the delightful imagery, not at this hour, not before he took a piss, not before he decided what to do now that he had broken rule number one.

Tony turned around, feeling a bit crampy from staying so long in the same position. He was amused to notice Steve _spooning_ against him, and gently disentangled himself from his hold to be able to move. There was now a certain urgency stirring in him, one that he could easily mistake for a full bladder, except that it wasn't. He wanted to jump out of the bed, go to his room and resume their normal programming, pretending no rules had been broken. Just another night of good sex. Just another morning of carefully cultivated pretense in front of the others, while boiling on the inside waiting for their next moment alone.

Just another... and his thoughts lost their continuity as he watched Steve sleep.

To say that Steve was like an innocent angel would've been to push his nearly non-existent romanticism to disturbing levels of cheesiness. He looked, in Tony's opinion, almost as hot as he looked awake, but without his pet furrow spoiling his forehead. He wished he could see Steve's eyes, but his closed eyelids had a charm of their own. It was strange to see the usually uptight captain with his mouth like this, lips loose and swollen from Tony's violent kisses. Hand curled under his chin. Body heaving ever so lightly with every breath, so subtle that at time Tony feared he wasn't simply asleep, and wouldn't wake up...

He knew he should get out of the bed, but he didn't want to. He wanted to shake Steve awake and recommence their lovemaking, make that supple, eerily young body his morning bread, his mug of coffee. He wanted to awake to the sound of Steve's moans, like some people awoke to the chirping of the birds.

Tony was seized by a sudden, fierce possessiveness towards Steve, one that belonged to the category of abstract nouns he wanted to avoid; only he couldn't. Because together with arousal, knotting at the pit of his stomach, was fear. Fear that Steve would disappear somehow, that he'd fall asleep or be killed, despite his strength. Fear that he would slip between Tony's fingers because he wasn't strong enough to hold him and keep him. Fear of spending a good 70 years, getting older and colder, bereft of this new-found warmth. Of dying without ever seeing him again.

Because, much to his surprise, he had somehow become prepared to die before Steve, but not quite prepared to live without him. Not now that he was just discovering him, every day secretly exploring new parts of this _terra incognita_ that was his lover. Moreover, he now urged to tear Steve from his dreams in the most violent manner, to make him open his eyes and never, ever close them again. 

He didn't have to. When his mind focused again on Steve's face, back from its _rendezvous_ with despair, he found two blue eyes looking hazily at him. Tony hoped Steve didn't notice the shuddering sigh of relief that escaped his lips.

"'Morning," the captain whispered, with a sleepy smile.

Tony's mouth hung open for a tic, while his brain searched for a decent reply without finding it.

"Hush," he said, hand caressing Steve's face as if to make sure he was really there, "go back to sleep. It's early."

"I can't. I can almost _hear_ you thinking beside me."

Tony smirked, and then rolled over Steve's body, pinning him to the bed. 

"Then I'll stop thinking, and put you back to sleep."

"You sure you can do this so early in the morning," Steve quipped, " _old man_?"

Tony feigned an outraged look, grinning on the inside at the captain's unexpected sarcasm. So much for a '40s mentality.

"Old man, _moi_? You are the museum piece here, chap." Tony retorted, pressing his body against Steve's. "Now do shut up so I can kiss you."

"Actually, I must go to the bathroom first..." Steve noted, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Now that you mention, so do I." Tony said, suddenly remembering his own full bladder and morning breath. He rolled off Steve and sat on the bed, gesturing for him to go ahead. "You first, lad."

Steve got up and walked towards the bathroom in urgent strides, bits dangling shamelessly, much to Tony's delight. But before he closed the door, he turned back to look at Tony, casting his eyes sheepishly to the floor and asking:

"Will you still be here when I come out?"

It took Tony a second to understand why he was asking that. But then he was reminded of his own early meditations and his expression, a bit twisted after their badinage, softened. 

"Yes."

"What about rule number one?"

Tony shrugged, with the ghost of a smile upon his lips.

"Needs an amendment... Now hurry up, before I burst!"

Steve's face brightened, but the closed door quickly concealed his joy. Tony put his hands behind his head and mused sleepily about the uselessness of rules when abstract nouns were involved. He decided that sleeping together was something they could incorporate to their routine, as long as the others didn't catch them together (which he figured was prone to happen, anyway). _Oh well_. They'd cross that bridge when they got to it. For now, he had to think of a new rule number one. He felt inclined towards something that forbid pet names, lest he had Steve calling him 'muffin' in front of the squad.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer:** None of the characters mentioned in this fanfic belong to me, and nothing said here about them is true. No copyright infringement is intended.


End file.
